Midsummer
by Queen of the Badgers
Summary: Will moves on. He realises that it isn't always easy. Oneshot.


_Ooh, exciting! My first ever fic...  
And now, I present to you...my first ever disclaimer!  
_**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything to do with the His Dark Materials trilogy, or Philip Pullman, or Will or Lyra, for that matter. If I did, believe me, you'd know.

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**Midsummer**

It was unusually overcast on that Midsummer Day. The air was humid and had a thick heaviness to it. Hordes of people moved in one direction, as if they were one large, grey body, slowly making its way towards the city centre. Young people in smart suits talked loudly on their mobile phones, food-filled paper bags clutched in their hands. Greying professors and lecturers shuffled along in front of Magdalen College, quietly discussing politics and philosophy with tired looks on their creased and wrinkled faces.

A tall man strode determinedly in the opposite direction to the flow of the crowd. He was walking quickly, hands in his pockets. Although he was staring down at the ground as he walked, there was something about him, an air of authority, power, that caused the throng to part before him without even realising it. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and a shock of dark hair, and his name was William Parry.

He walked through the gates of the Botanical Gardens, finally lifting his head and looking around him. He made his way to a small wooden bench under a low-branched tree, and sat down on it with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his temple with two fingers, trying to get rid of that awful headache he seemed to get every morning. He glanced at his watch: 11.50. Ten minutes to go. He wasn't quite sure why he kept coming back here, every year, every Midsummer Day, always at noon. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a memory of a silent city, water that rippled slightly in the breeze, reflecting the moonlight. Memories of strange creatures on wheels, losing two fingers in a fight somewhere, lying on dew-laden grass under the twinkling night sky.

But all these memories were blurred and fading, and sometimes he wondered if he had made them up. They were too strange, too magical, to be real. Yet he still came back to this bench, every Midsummer Day, without even knowing why, and he knew that those memories had something to do with it.

Suddenly he spotted a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. He sat up and looked around. There it was again. A blue-black shadow darting between the bushes and trees. He frowned, and watched it for a while, before coming to the conclusion that it was a stray cat. He turned away and instead focused his attention onto a large rosebush that was in full bloom.

So he was mildly startled when the cat gracefully leapt up onto the bench and sat beside him, staring at him intently. He stared back, and something stirred in his mind, in his heart. He reached out a tentative hand, and stroked the cat's smooth, silky back. Out of nowhere, a name came to him.

"Kirjava," he said softly.

The cat bowed its head, and replied, "Will."

And all of a sudden, a million memories came rushing back, flooding his mind.

Seeing a small boat through a veil of mist.

A strange but pleasant tug at his heart as he watched the bird in front of him become a cat.

A bright smile.

Sparkling eyes that shone in the sunlight.

Lyra.

"Lyra," he whispered hoarsely. A tear ran down his face, a tear of joy for having remembered who she was, joy at his daemon returning to him, shame for having forgotten everything in the first place. As the clock struck 12, and a loud chime rang out across the city, Will finally remembered, and his headache was gone, only to be replaced by a heavy feeling in his heart as he fingered the small velvet box in his right pocket.

That evening he had planned to propose to Sarah. She was perfect for him in every way – she was intelligent, calm, charismatic, fascinating, funny ….the list could go on forever.

But she was not Lyra.

Will sighed. He had picked Midsummer to propose to her because to him, it had held a certain significance, although he could not quite put his finger on it. Sure, 6 years go on Midsummer's Day, he had met Sarah for the first time. 2 years ago on Midsummer's Day, his beloved mother had passed away, although that certainly was not the reason why he liked this day. Now that he knew the real reason he had always loved this day, he was doubting his decision to propose to Sarah. He had no idea what to do – marrying her and starting a new life with her would be betraying Lyra, but then again, he could not just dwell on a memory for the rest of his life.

_ No, she's not just a memory, _Will thought angrily. _She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She showed me that I could trust people. _He shook his head angrily, as he thought of a thousand and one reasons why he shouldn't go through with his plans. He felt a small movement next to him, and realised that Kirjava was still there. She understood what he was going through, she had forgiven him for forgetting her. She could not stay angry at him while he was this upset. He was part of her, she was part of him. He did not know what to do, and she did. She knew the right thing he should do.

"Let her go, Will."

"No!" Will croaked. "I…I can't."

"I know you still love her. But you have to let her go. You heard what the angel said, we all did. Even if we spent our whole lives searching for a doorway between this world and hers, the chances of us actually finding one are…well, not very large. And then we'd have wasted our life."

Will slowly turned his head to face his daemon, a frown on his face. Kirjava continues speaking.

"Sarah's a great girl. She may not be Lyra, but I don't think she'd want to always be compared to some girl you're never going to meet in this life again. Sarah loves you. And you love her really. It won't be a betrayal to Lyra if you marry Sarah. You know that Lyra misses you too, but she won't be pining for you for the rest of her life. She'll be doing something important, you know that she was never one to just sit back and do nothing. And we both know she'll find someone, have a family. You can be happy too, but you have to move on. Neither of us will forget her and Pan, I'm sure they won't forget us either – we can carry on loving them, but we have to let ourselves love other people as well."

Her speech finished, Kirjava fell silent, and she and Will sat next to each other on the little seat under the tree, watching couples strolling along the path, hand-in-hand, dreamy smiles on their faces as they looked at the bright flowers and fountains. Two little boys ran past, chasing each other, and their parents walked some way behind, talking quietly and laughing.

Will looked at his watch. It was 12.20. He had made up his mind. Swallowing, he stood up and walked slowly out of the Botanic Garden, Kirjava walking confidently beside him, head held up high. Tonight was the night Will would take Sarah out for dinner, and tonight was the night he would ask her to marry him.

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_Thanks for reading! Not very exciting, I know, but still, please drop me a review or two and tell me what you think. They'd would be much appreciated.  
_QoB 


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